The Beginning of the Nemo's.

Prince Dakkar looked at the corpses of his family in despair. He and his small band of volunteers had managed to press into one of the British forts after gaining intelligence the British had captured his family and many other women and children and were holding them prisoner. Instead of a siege, the prince decided to use subterfuge and espionage to get inside the fort. Using disguises he and his men managed to spy and assassinate several British soldiers and officers to confuse them.

But they were simply just too late. The British had murdered his family, paying the price for his actions.

'No,' he thought to himself harshly as he struggled to master his rage and grief as he stared down at the bodies, the blood staining them long since dried and blackened with hardness. 'My parents were not a part of the rebellion but they supported it, just like my darling Padma. She wanted the British removed from the country. She agreed with my views and plans to build a new India, one which would possess a technologically advanced navy, with the power to keep the hated British out of our lands forever.'

Dakkar clenched his fists in fury as he beheld the bodies, his eyes watering as he realised his wife had been raped and his mother had been tortured so brutally.

When he had begun the rebellion against the British, the Prince had known it was going to be brutal, and vicious. In fact, he had planned it that way. He had spent a long time since his return from his travels to Europe and to America and other parts of the world after his parents sent him abroad to gather a complete and unparalleled education, with the secret hope from both of his parents after they had bore witness to his gifted intellect he would have the skills and knowledge to banish the invaders from India forever.

He had learnt the arts of mechanics, of engineering. He had spoken to scientists about electricity, and the newest experiments in the field. He had witnessed divers and submarine demonstrations and he had spoken at length with the inventors and scientists involved. He had spoken to soldiers, and spent time shadowing spies, detectives, bounty hunters, chemists, policemen, actors, soldiers, and biologists knowing their knowledge and ideas could inspire him.

And when he had returned to India, Dakkar had reunited with his family, and he had begun laying the foundations of his plans to fight back. It had taken the prince years, to build networks of spies, saboteurs and assassins. He knew from his studies and research wars depended on spies and information.

For a long time since the first shots were fired, the British had done their best to prevent the insurrectionists from gaining too many footholds. Dakkar knew only too well the British had desperately tried to have him captured or killed. He had faced down many a barrel of a gun from assassins, and double agents, and spread misinformation so the British could make stupid mistakes which made it easier to weaken them. What he wanted to know was how his family had been targeted in this way.

Dakkar was so numb and paralysed with his racing thoughts he didn't even hear his second in command. "Maharajah sahib," Vishnu's voice was low, respectful and full of sorrow. "We have freed many children captured by the British."

Dakkar bit his tongue. A part of him selfishly wished they had died instead, but he killed the thought since it was the future of India he had been desperate to save. "Good," he said as he calmed down and let his more rational mind return. As he did, Dakkar scanned the bodies thoughtfully as he mentally prepared himself for the need to give his family a proper burial.

But as he did, Dakkar realised something important.

"Wait, Vishnu," he said softly, "My youngest daughter. Janni. Where is she? I can't see her."

Vishnu, who knew the family well, scanned the bodies quickly. "I do not know, Maharajah."

A shard of hope was stabbing him in the heart. "Quickly, we must find out if she is here," Dakkar said.

Together the two men searched the bodies, but it soon became clear to them both she was not there. With increasing desperation, Dakkar searched the room before he came across a massive barrel full of water. For a moment he dismissed it, but then he saw something.

"Janni!" He whimpered, and he plunged his hands into the barrel and pulled out a struggling child. She wore a once fine dress, but now it was stained with dirt.

"Janni, its me!" Dakkar said.

The girl stopped struggling and whimpering. "F-Father?" She whispered.

Dakkar nodded and he stepped around to stop the child from seeing the bodies. "Yes, it's me."

Janni's smile warmed and lit the room. But it also broke his heart. Suddenly she launched herself at her father, crying and sobbing desperately as she clung to him tightly.

As he held his daughter tightly, Dakkar felt hollow. He had formed the rebellion in the hopes children like his daughter and son would grow up without being second-class citizens in their own homeland. He had wanted his children and the children of all of India, to feel love about Indian customs without the British pressing down law after law, demand after demand on them. He had wanted the future to be bright, and wholesome. But right now all he felt was horror.

How could anyone do this? The British must have known Padma and the children were not even a part of his insurrection, but they'd given the order to make him pay for his 'defiance.' The thought made him furious, but because of the little girl in his arms, he did no more than sneer furiously.

He had seen the worst of the civilised world, but this was the final straw.

He never wanted to return. As he held his daughter, surrounded by corpses in this room while living in a country long since oppressed, Dakkar wanted nothing to do with the human race nor its desire for blood. He wanted to leave the civilised world for good. But where would he go? He had his followers, and if they had any surviving family members, his daughter came first. Where could they go?

As he thought about it, Dakkar remembered his vow after he had witnessed that submarine demonstration in New York. He had been awed by the potential power of such a boat, and he had spent years designing his own submarine technology with the hopes of building a fleet of them to destroy the British Navy in this part of the world, but he'd held off because India lacked the resources and he didn't have the loyal men needed to help him build one. But even when the insurrection could have benefited from an advanced warship, Dakkar had planned to gain more footholds. He had already searched for the resources to build a submarine boat and found them, so why not build a submarine and live beneath the waves?

Dakkar sighed as he held his daughter. His mind was racing with his plans.